by Natasha Ngan
She lifts a shoulder, her dark hair falling past her ears in soft waves. “It would have caused more trouble than it was worth. And I can’t blame you for wanting to find out what happened to your mother.” She pauses. “I’m sorry it wasn’t the outcome you were hoping for.”
I drop my eyes to my lap. “Thanks.”
“I lost my mother, too, you know,” she says.
My head jerks up. “You did?”
“She was a courtesan,” Zelle continues, a stiffness to the lift of her neck. She runs a hand over the viridian-green silks she’s wrapped in today, her fingernails picking at the silver threads patterning it. “Like me, here for any demons in the palace with a Paper fetish. Mistress Azami gives all of us medicine to keep us from getting pregnant, but it doesn’t always work, and once a courtesan has a baby, she’s not allowed to work anymore.”
I think of Mariko. “What happened to her?”
“Right after she had me, she was sent as a gift to one of the court representatives in Jana. I’ve never even met her.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Zelle gives a little shake of her head. “That’s just life in the palace,” she says with a bitter echo of her crooked grin.
“Have you… have you ever thought about escaping?” I ask quietly.
Her eyes glint. “Every second.”
I have no idea how to respond to that, so we fall silent. Eventually, Zelle says, “I heard about Mariko. You know, it’s not the first time that’s happened. Some girls manage to keep their affairs hidden, but it’s easy to get caught. I’ve had a few close shaves myself.”
“You have a lover?” I say, gaping at her.
“Of course,” she replies airily with a twirl of a wrist. “Hundreds, in fact. That is my job, isn’t it?” She gives me a wink, but there’s something pinched about her expression as she continues, “Yes, I did mean a lover of my own, not a client. Though it was a couple of years ago now.”
I shift forward. “Can I ask what happened?”
“He died,” Zelle says simply.
“Oh. I’m—I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right,” she replies with an odd little shrug. She casts her face to the window, and the muffled light glazes it into a white-gray mask. “I’ve come to terms with it. Anyway, if he were still here, we’d have been caught eventually. Then we’d both be dead.”
Again, we fall quiet. Zelle must sense my mood, because she doesn’t press to start the lesson. It’s the coldest day so far this winter, the wind full of bite, but her room is warm, lantern light flickering off her glossy hair and making our shadows shiver.
As we sit in silence, something wild starts to wing through me. A ragged, reckless feeling. I didn’t sleep at all last night, thoughts about Wren and the assassination plans spinning on through the long, dark hours. Since finding out everything, my heart has been swinging between defiance and fear. Sometimes all I can think of is how powerful the King is, and how delicate Wren’s human frame is. How futile it’s been to believe we can defy him with just our love and hope. But seeing my name on the bamboo chip at lunch just made it even clearer how if we don’t do anything, that’s what the rest of our lives will be—waiting for someone to call us to do something we can hardly bear to do. Whether we become wives to generals after our year as Paper Girls, or stay on in the palace as courtesans, or artists, or teahouse owners, it will all be a performance. And all we’ll ever be are actors in our own lives.
The first time I kissed Wren, I’d already decided that I wasn’t going to let that life become my future. I might not have known at the time, but that’s what that first kiss was—a promise. A seal. Not to Wren, but to myself.
I’m not spending the rest of my life a prisoner.
“I have one,” I say suddenly. It comes out before I even know I’m about to speak. I risk a glance up, testing Zelle’s reaction. “A… a lover.”
She gives me a small smile. “I know,” she says, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Is it that obvious?”
“It was that obvious even in our first lesson.” She tilts her head. “But it’s progressed to something more now, hasn’t it?”
I nod.
“You’re in love.”
My answer comes, bright and defiant. “Yes.”
Zelle watches me, her face impassive. Then she lets out a sigh, folding her fingers in her lap. “I don’t know what to tell you, Nine,” she says, and her voice is weighted, a tightness to the cast of her shoulders. “I could say that I wish the two of you all the happiness in the world—and I do. Of course I do. But you’re a Paper Girl. The King’s concubine. That makes you his, and his alone.”
Whatever reaction I’d been expecting, this wasn’t it. Anger rattles through me. Out of everyone, I thought Zelle would understand.
“You told me that my thoughts and feelings are my power,” I say, a ball in my throat.
“And they are. But I meant that you’d always have something the King could never take from you. Love will only make it harder.”
“Did it? For you?”
“It still does.” She cuts me a sharp look. “Falling in love is the most dangerous thing women like us can do.”
“I don’t agree.”
“Oh? What do you think love is, then?”
“Necessary. Powerful. Maybe the most important thing women like us can do.” I picture Wren’s smile, the way her body fits with mine. My words shine with the truth of it, the truth of her, of us. “Love is what gives us hope. What gets us through each day.”
Zelle lifts her chin, her brows arching. “And what about the nights? Will it get you through those?”
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
For the first time, something almost angry flares across Zelle’s features. “Don’t deny him again, Nine. I’m sorry you have to go through this, I really am, but you have to find a way to endure it. To hold your true feelings back. Because if he finds out that you’ve given yourself to someone else, he won’t just brand you—he will kill you.”
“Let him try,” I growl. My fingertips dig into my palms. “Maybe someone else will get to him first.”
It’s out before I can stop it.
Zelle blinks.
“I—I mean,” I amend quickly, “maybe I won’t take it anymore.”
“And what do you plan to do instead? How are you going to stand up to the King? You aren’t a warrior. I bet you’ve never even handled a weapon before. Didn’t you used to work in an herb shop?”
Her words smart, even though she doesn’t mean them cruelly.
Then I grin. Because yes, I used to work in an herb shop.
And it might just be what saves me.
My plan forms on the carriage ride back to Paper House.
When I knew the King would call me next, I thought that I’d just have to bear it. Wren told me last night that the assassination attempt will be soon. This might be the only time I have to go to his chambers before we get out of here. Just like Zelle asked me, I was prepared to endure it. That’s why I avoided Wren’s eyes earlier. Looking at her, seeing the hurt in them, would have made it a million times harder—when it’s already impossible. But Zelle’s throwaway comment about my herb-shop background reminds me that I might not be as helpless tonight as I believe.
I might not be able to kill the King, but I can at least stall him. And maybe this will prove to Wren that I can be counted on to help with the assassination.
“I need your help,” I tell Lill the minute I get back to my room, my words coming fast. I crouch down and grip her shoulders. “There’s something I need to do before going to the King tonight. Do you think you can distract Madam Himura and the maids for me? Just for a few minutes?”
She tenses. “But, Mistress, the maids are already here—”
“Tell them I’m not feeling very well. That I just need a bit of fresh air.”
Her furred ears quiver. “Maybe we should call for a doctor if you’re sick,” she mumble
s, teething her bottom lip.
“Remember how I grew up working in my parents’ herb shop? I just want to make a quick remedy to calm my nerves.” Lill still looks unconvinced, so I push on, “After what happened last time, I really need to impress the King. You understand that, don’t you? Just a few herbs. That’s all I need to calm myself. And then I’ll be ready for him.”
This last bit at least is true.
In an instant, Lill beams. “You should have said that’s why, Mistress! Of course I’ll help you with anything that’ll win you favor with the King!”
I give her a hug, trying to ignore the squirm of guilt at lying to her.
Hours later: the sky strewn with stars, the palace streets flickering with lantern glow and the icy whip of the wind. This time, there are fifteen guards in my escort through the King’s fortress. I bite down laughter at how ridiculous it is, all these armor-clad demons with weapons at the ready against a single human girl in flimsy robes, her only armament a handful of herbs hidden in the sash at her waist.
Major Kenzo Ryu—or Wren’s wolf, as I have come to think of him, not without some jealousy—leads the group. He takes my arm when we near the King’s door, shifting closer so I catch the musky, natural scent of him. It reminds me of long grass in the fields beyond our village, the smell of earth baking in the sun. Even though I only saw him last night, it’s my first chance to get a proper look at him up close. He’s young for a major, not more than ten years older than me, gray wolf fur poking between his armor and covering his handsome, long-jawed face. The sharp tips of canines are just visible under his top lip.
Over the last few months I’ve become used to being around Steel and Moon castes, but his predatory nature isn’t lost on me.
He’d better not be in love with Wren. The thought comes to me in a burst of mad humor. Because I definitely won’t be the one walking away from that fight.
The other soldiers drop back as the wolf leads me to the King’s door, handling me with surprising gentleness despite his size. “I’m sorry,” he says suddenly in a low voice.
My chin jerks up, and he squeezes my arm in warning.
“Eyes ahead.” His voice is a deep, gravelly growl, yet somehow warm at the same time, like the comforting purr of a loved one’s snore. “To have to deliver you to the King,” he explains. “I’m sorry.”
“Hopefully this will be the last time,” I mutter.
His bronze eyes flick my way before he knocks on the door.
“Hopefully.”
There is no shove this time. No hissed “whore.” After the doors open, I take a deep inhale and step inside. Blackness swallows me. For a while I don’t move, just trying to catch my breath, forcing down the liquid pull of nausea, the dizzying skip of my pulse.
“There’s no point in hiding, Lei-zhi.”
The boom of the King’s voice startles me. Distance and the shape of the tunnel distorts it, giving it an almost physical presence, like a thunderclap in the dark. With a roll of my shoulders, I start slowly forward. While I’m still concealed in the shadowed tunnel, my footsteps echoing off the arched walls, I run my fingers along my sash. It’s tied at my waist over the gathered silks of my ruqun robes, knotted firmly to keep all the material in place, and as I finger the comforting shape of the small leaf-wrapped parcel it’s also holding, my heart skips faster.
Desire cannot be tamed. That’s what the King told me the first time I was here.
Well, King. You should see how untamable love makes you.
His chambers are just as I remember. Candles fill the air, a ruby glow, and the overpowering scent hits the back of my throat. But there’s something different this time as I pad across the cavernous room to where the King is watching my approach, sloped back in his massive throne.
Me.
The first time I crossed this room, my knees shook so badly I could barely walk. Fear seared every inch of me, like venom. Part of me even wanted to please him. I’d committed to being a Paper Girl, believing it was the only option I had to save my family.
Now I march toward him with the knowledge that that part of me is long gone.
“I was not hiding, my King,” I say, my voice echoing off the high walls. I keep it steady. “I was just… readying myself for seeing you.”
“You are still scared of me?”
His voice is gloating. He wants me to be scared.
“Yes,” I answer, hating that it isn’t entirely a lie.
The crooked grin he gives me is shot through with something tense, some raw, feral quality that reminds me of how he was that night at the koyo celebrations. His ebony robes hang open at the chest, revealing the hard swell of muscles.
My gaze slips to the vial of sake on the side table.
“Come here,” he commands.
I do as the King says, the long skirt of my robes whispering across the stone floor. I’ve only just knelt at his feet when he grabs a fistful of my robes. He yanks me forward so hard I have to throw my hands out to stop from smashing my forehead into the marbled gold of his throne.
“No need to be so formal, Lei-zhi,” he says with a cutting smile, leaning in close, frosted eyes leering. “I’ve seen you naked, don’t you remember? Act coy, but I know all you Paper Girls are hungry for it. So hungry you’ll even spread your legs for one of my soldiers. Imagine!” Flecks of spit hit my face as his voice rises. “A common soldier, when you have shared a bed with the King!”
His breath reeks of alcohol. I wince as he tears my robes open at the collar, baring my neck, the small swell of my breasts.
Panic flares through me. My eyes go again to the bottle of sake. I thought there’d be conversation like last time, time for me to carry out my plan.
“M-Mariko was thrown out by Madam Himura,” I start, trying to keep him distracted. Twin currents of anger and fear twine through my voice, and they seem so much like the same thing now—hot, bright, defiant—that it’s hard to imagine them unthreaded. “The doctor carved the word rotten into her forehead to make sure everyone knows what she did.”
The King’s laughter bounds around the room. “The girl got what she deserved. No one betrays me and gets away with it.”
My jaw tightens. “Do many people betray you, my King?”
His nostrils flare. “A surprising number,” he answers through peeled lips. “You would think my people would be grateful for what I have done for them. All the comforts and riches I’ve shared. The efforts I’ve made to stop the Sickness.” He draws me closer, tracing a calloused fingertip along my chin, his hot breaths stirring the strands of hair around my cheeks that the maids earlier so carefully styled. “Tell me, Lei-zhi—are you grateful for what I’ve given you?”
“Of—of course.”
“You ran from me last time.”
I lick my lips. “I was scared—”
“I did everything I could to make you comfortable. I gave you a home. I made sure you had entertainment. And when you came to me that first time, I had your favorite foods prepared, I talked to you, shared things with you.” One hand creeps round the back of my neck, and it’s so big his fingers close at the front, pinching the base of my throat. His cold eyes bore into mine. “And still you ran. Still you humiliated me. So I ask you again, Lei-zhi. Are you grateful for what I’ve given you?”
I push the words past my lips. “Yes, my King.”
He lets me go, and I gulp in a deep breath, lifting my fingertips to my neck.
“Then show me,” he commands. “Show me how grateful you are.”
The intent in his words makes my skin crawl. Out of the corner of my eye, I focus on the vial of sake, imagining releasing the crushed herbs in my palm, the poison drifting into the liquid.
“L-let me dance for you,” I start, my voice pitching. Holding back my draped sleeve, I reach for the vial. “Madam Chu taught us a new routine I think you’d enjoy. I’ll pour a drink for you while you watch—”
“Enough!”
The King’s roar snaps me to atte
ntion. Knocking my hand away, he snatches the vial with such force the glasses beside it tip over, shattering on the floor. Scarlet candlelight glints off the broken shards.
“It’s you who needs a drink if you think I brought you here to watch you dance!”
Seizing my face, he grips my cheeks to force my lips open, and pours the sake straight into my mouth. I splutter. The alcohol stings my throat. I gag, but the King laughs, holding me until my clothes are soaked and I’m coughing and spluttering, eyes squeezed shut, skin sticky with the liquid.
When the vial is empty, he flings me aside. I double over, retching. Wet drops splatter the floor around my hands.
“You think I don’t understand what you’re up to?” he roars, arms wide, fists curled. “You cannot hide from me forever, Lei-zhi. This is my palace. My kingdom!”
The boom of his voice shakes the room, sending a ripple through the floating candles. I sway to my feet. Cast a desperate look over the scatter of glass around me, the splashes of ruined rice wine. There’s no more drink left to poison with the herbs I took from the kitchen gardens earlier; the ones that would have cramped the King’s gut and made him too sick to move for the rest of the evening, sparing me at least one more night.
It would only have been a temporary reprieve. But maybe it would have been enough. Maybe after tonight, Wren would have managed to get to the King before he got to me.
As the King makes a lurch, I spin round, clutching up the layers of my skirt and stumbling into a run. But I’ve only taken a few steps when his hands seize me. Lift me into the air. With a bellow, he throws me to the floor.
My cheekbone cracks.
Pain splinters through me, fissures my skull.
The next instant, I’m swallowed by the King’s shadow as he bears down on top of me. He brings his mouth to my ear and whispers, crooning almost, like some kind of sick, twisted lullaby, “I ordered the raid on your village, Lei-zhi. My soldiers told me they killed all the women they took that day—including your beloved mother.” And then he grabs a fistful of the silks at my waist and tears them open as I let out a cry no one else can hear.
